So close, yet so far
by MathemagicianSVU
Summary: Emma Swan is a 24 year old bail bond agent that is set on avenging the death of her parents. When her path crosses the path of a 27 year old stranger in black, her mission and life change drastically.. - Alternate Universe. Swan Queen :)


_**A/N: So I made up a plot line, and finally finished the first chapter of that. This is the result. :)**_

_**It's an alternate universe, so things are a little different. That means, also the characters are slightly changed for certain purposes. I hope you won't mind, but I'm warning you upfront anyway. I think this chapter sets the story, so you'll understand after reading this one.**_

_**I rated this story M for future sexual content, but it's also safe to say it's M, because of violent or bloody content later this story. **_

_**Enjoy and let me know what you think :)**_

* * *

Emma Swan was lying on her stomach, peering over the edge of the shed she was on top of. She was keeping track of a man with straight grayish hair, holding a cane in his right hand. She watched him talking to another man, dressed in green, short blondish hair. They appeared to finish a business transaction, and Emma figured it had to do something with drugs.

For five years she had been a bail bond agent and she knew enough just by seeing their faces. This gray-haired man was a drug lord. Everything about him screamed that he was not someone to be messed with. He may have had a limp, but Emma knew that appearances were misleading. The nicest guys turned out to be the biggest scum, and she had learned it the hard way.

When she was seventeen, she started dating a man she had thought to be one of those nice guys. He had a nice face, and she had grown to trust him. She had fallen for him, which she still considered one of her biggest mistakes in her so far twenty-four years lasting life. In the end, she had found him to be unreliable. Even more so, he was a thief. She didn't realize what kind of man he was, that she should have run away. During one of his robberies she attended, she received a knife between her ribs, getting knocked out in an instant. She woke up in a hospital two days later; cuffed.

Eighteen months: the time she spent in a juvenile detention center because she put her faith and trust in a man that obviously couldn't be trusted. That shouldn't have been trusted. During that time, she trained and worked out, trying to get stronger, faster; trying to become a fighter. When she got out, she decided to try another tack; to turn her tables. Her criminal record was sealed, so she tried for a job as bail bond agent; enabling her to catch the scum she loathed. The people that made her do time in prison.

But there was always a gnawing sensation in her soul; she hadn't found any family. She hadn't found any home. There was no purpose for her in life. She was swanning around, chasing bad guys; never feeling like she belonged somewhere; anywhere. There was a hole in her heart, and she didn't know how to fill it. Countless people had entered her life, in order to leave again. And she made them. She never found the urge to keep them around; to let them in, to make them know her.

Until a few weeks prior, Emma hadn't even cared. It was just who she was. She came and went, and in the meanwhile she'd do what was necessary to get through the days; to survive. But somehow it changed. That sensation in her soul had grown so big that she couldn't handle it anymore. She couldn't hide it from herself. She couldn't contain the feeling with endless amounts of liquor and carelessness anymore. It wasn't enough.

When she was a baby, her parents had died. They had put her in a little box, along with a blanket and a letter, under a bridge. The letter explained that, in case the box was found, they hadn't survived, and if the finder wanted to take care of their little girl. It also stated that her name was Emma, but there wasn't much else. Nothing that explained why they couldn't raise her or how they didn't make it. The letter was so vague, that Emma had gotten mad over it. The hopelessness washed over her and something she had tucked deep within her had snapped . She had started to throw things, feeling more helpless than she had ever felt.

Eventually she had taken the box in her hands, and had smashed it against the wall. It had been one of the only belongings of her parents she still owned, so she immediately regretted it, the feeling overwhelming her rage. She had stood up, walking towards the pile of rubbish and splinters; feeling that awkward sensation of not being able to change back what you'd caused. She had sunken down on her knees, in front of said pile. Hot tears were streaming down her face, falling down on the floor and among the pile of broken wood.

It had cost her a few deep breaths to calm herself down, finding out she had missed something. She hadn't seen there had been something else in the box; another piece of paper. Seemingly there had been a secret double bottom in the box that she hadn't acknowledged all those years she had kept it. She reached out for the letter and delicately picked it up, bringing it at arm's length to read it.

_Dearest daughter,_

_When you find this - and we hope you will - it means you're still alive.  
You must have a lot of questions, from which the biggest part will start with 'why'.  
Now I write this I have to tell you that we don't have a lot of time to explain ourselves, our ending is coming.  
If you read this, that means we didn't survive this war.  
As you may know, not every war has been fought between nations or countries, but some may be closer to home.  
Remind that we died for the greater good, to protect you and others.  
We are deeply sorry we'll never get to raise you like parents normally do,  
that we'll never get to see you speak your first words, take your first steps, comfort you when you're down.  
We are deeply sorry that when you read this, you've wondered why your parents didn't want you,  
why you didn't get to have a home like every other girl.  
Just know that we loved you and we always will love you, even if death has parted us.  
We hope you've found what we couldn't grant you: a family.  
And above all, we hope you've found happiness._

_Love always,  
Your parents_

Emma had read the letter over and over again, until she'd memorized it; until her tears had stained the paper. From that moment she kept the letter with her like an amulet. It was proof that her parents had actually loved her; that they hadn't given her up because they wanted to. They had no choice. They had to, to make sure she would be able to live a life.

But she had started to think about the letter. She thought about the words that told her that 'their ending was coming'. Obviously there had been something, or someone, chasing them, which got them killed. 'A war'. Emma couldn't help but feel an anger boiling up inside of her. She was furious with the people - singular or plural - that got her parents killed; that took her childhood away. She knew she had to find out who had done this, to avenge her parents's death.

Only days later she remembered there had been a sentence carved into the lid of the box, which she had never given much thought; which she had never thought of as a clue. There wasn't any lock on the box, so she had always concluded it was a fragment of a verse out of some sort of children's tale, like the Wizard of Oz. The box was broken, but nevertheless she knew what the sentence was. She had read it many times, when she sought for comfort; when she needed a parent.

_At the ending of the rainbow lies the key._

Those nine words had never made sense to her; never rang a bell. She had watched many cartoons and other stories that revolved around rainbows, but this was never a quote in any of them. But when she had read the letter, she considered it a clue. She had to solve it to find out who killed her parents. She was convinced her parents would tell her somehow, some way who did this to them; who made Emma an orphan. It took her several days to find out what the code meant, until the word 'Leprechaun' made her mind go wild, which would spill an answer that actually made sense.

'Gold'.

She had heard of a man which many feared, Gold was his name. No one really knew what he was. Some said he was a drug lord, some said he was the leader of a cartel, some even said he was a mobster boss. Emma didn't know what he was, but she was surely convinced he was dangerous. And she was for ninety percent sure that he was the murderer of her parents; and if not the murderer, then the person who gave the order to kill them. Ninety percent.

It had all made sense in her head. The box with the sentence and the letter were two different parts to crack the code. The sentence was useless without knowing to what it referred, and without the sentence, the letter was just a letter. She had become obsessed with the idea of avenging her parents; to honor their death. She would never get them back, but she could at least bring their killer justice.

So in that moment, after weeks of preparation and investigation, she was lying on the roof, having the very man that was responsible for her parents death in her sight, never averting her gaze, stroking the trigger of the single-barreled rifle she was aiming at said man; ready to have him make up for his sins. She kept wondering if ninety percent was enough. What if he was innocent? The words kept reverberating through her head.

But he wasn't an innocent. Even if he hadn't killed her parents.. He had killed many others. She tried to justify herself a kill. Just one. She had never murdered before. She had shot a few men in defense on her job, but she had never pulled the trigger in cold blood; taking the life of someone. Was she ready to be responsible for such a crime?

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to take in a position that made her feel at ease, but changing positions wasn't way to clear a guilty conscience. She breathed in deeply, holding her breath for a few seconds, before exhaling again. Before she could even think about placing her finger on the trigger again, she heard the sound of a blade cutting through the air, and moments later the barrel of her rifle spun to the right, disarming Emma immediately.

Her eyes fell on a throwing star, situated next to her rifle, clearly being the reason the rifle had moved. She turned her head in the direction the throwing star had come from, and her eyes met the eyes of another woman that was standing a few yards behind her, out of sight of the men she was spying on. It surprised her more than she liked to admit that the person who threw a star was a woman. She had expected a man, big and strong, like from the movies; the ones with ninjas and other warrior-like star throwing thieves or assassins.

But what she saw was more pleasant than that. A dark-haired woman, that couldn't differ more than a few inches in height, olive skin and piercing brown eyes, was standing only a couple of feet away from her. She was wearing black suit, equipped with a sword and a knife. Emma could tell the suit was made for the suitor to be stealthy and fast, and her suspicion was that this woman was indeed an assassin. Once she had determined this woman may have been a threat to her, she reached for her gun on her hip.

When the other woman didn't make any attempt to attack her, she ceased her action, arching an eyebrow instead. "What are you doing? Why did you disarm me?" She asked incredulously, her hand keeping on her gun.

"You won't succeed." The stranger in black said, keeping her voice low. The way she spoke made Emma think this woman was in control; she wouldn't leave anything to coincidence; every step, every whisper, every word was ever so devised. And Emma couldn't help but admire this woman for that. She scrambled up, taking stance in front of the other woman, stepping away from the edge of the shed, so the other men wouldn't see them.

"In what?" She retorted, slightly offended this woman was apparently convinced she wouldn't succeed in whatever she was talking about.

"Putting a bullet in me. Or in that man." She gestured in the general direction of the criminals, but Emma knew she meant Gold in particular. Emma arched an eyebrow, not amused by the statement. She was a bounty hunter; she knew how to take care of thugs.

"And what makes you think that?" She put every effort she had in her to make it sound like she was offended, and that this woman had obviously gone too far; that Emma was not someone to be messed with. But she couldn't contain the curiosity that was growing inside of her. The burning questions she had for this woman threatened to be asked, but she couldn't let her guard down. At least, not yet.

"I will do everything in my ability to prevent you murdering that man." She said resolutely, as if the matter was over and done with and there was no room for discussion. "And you will not be able to shoot me, because I possess skills you don't have any knowledge of." She added, her voice still soft and calm, as if they weren't talking about the murder of someone, but about dinner.

"Why are you trying so hard to let him live? Do you even know who he is?" Emma snarled, trying to keep her voice down, so they wouldn't get made. But somehow something snapped within her when she heard the other woman talk. Why was she trying to avoid the murder of a drug lord? Someone who had obviously more blood on his hands then any other person in the very city they lived in. She squeezed her eyes together suspiciously. "Are you working for him?"

"I most certainly am not. You are not the only person in this city who has a history with this man, or what your reason to murder him may be." The other woman replied calmly, although there was an undertone of irritation audible in her voice. "And I hardly think it is my obligation to explain my movements."

"You aren't obliged to do anything. I just wanna know why you're protecting a person who's obviously full of crap and won't be missed by anyone if he were dead." Emma said heatedly, still pissed off by the woman, but somehow finding it in her to bring her voice down. She took a few extra steps in the direction of the stranger, until they were almost toe-to-toe.

"Because.." The stranger faltered, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. Emma could tell that it took her a lot to speak the following words out loud, because when she opened her eyes again, they were full of despair and fear; sorrow even. And Emma couldn't feel any different when she heard those words. Her blood ran cold when she thought what she would have brought onto herself if she had pulled the trigger. What she would have done to this woman..

"If you murder him, I won't ever see my son again."


End file.
